Why is it so easy to recall all the bad memories? Why can’t I discard them forever. It’s just in your head forever. Kinda like you can only remove things from the internet but they will always be there. The first bad memory of a family member is there forever, so is the most recent one. I promise you it’s worth the wait to hear the story.
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I was five years old where I recall the first bad memory of someone who was supposed to care about me. That day still lives in my head rent free.
“Anora!” my dad called.
I was half awake, and shot up in my bed. “Yes?” As I pulled the covers off of my body, my dad came storming in, furious.
“Why weren’t you up and helping me?”
I had an older brother at the time. I say had. That’s something I’ll explain later.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I looked down at the ground, fighting the urge to break down.
He grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the kitchen. I screamed, trying to hit his hand off of my wrist. It was so uncomfortable for me to be in that room. Jordan wasn’t even awake. He could’ve been helping Dad cook and set the table. Instead of waking up my twelve year old brother, he woke me up. I couldn't defy his wishes. I didn’t want to get hurt. Within five minutes, the table was set, milk was in the glasses, butter and syrup on the table, and I had the food plated.
“Jordan!” I called, “breakfast!”
Jordan walked into the kitchen, half awake. His hair was a mess, face unwashed, the whole morning mess. He grabbed his plate of waffles, put some syrup on, took the glass of milk, and went back to his room.
“I love you, Jordan,” I sigh, hoping he heard me. I sat down at the table, said a silent prayer, and nibbled at my food. My dad had already finished his food, and was getting ready for work. Suit, tie, business meeting he said. Dad loved to dress up for work, but after that day, he never dressed up. He didn’t leave the house. Dad lost me, and I was sent away
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February 5, 2010. The day Jordan Farim was killed. I was 5 years old. I was no longer the little sister. Anora Grey Farim. Now the head of the house with her dad who was falling apart. The funeral was two weeks later. February 13, 2010 was the funeral. As everyone walked into the church, I stood in the bathroom right in front of the mirror. Tears were running down my face. In an attempt to look somewhat functional, I splashed my face with cold water and walked out of the bathroom. As more people walked in, I snuck into the back of the auditorium and grabbed one of my special plushies my brother gave me. A blue stuffed dog I named Bluebell. One of my most important items. Dad walked over to me.
“Put. That. Away.” He hissed.
“But I was going to put this with Jorda-”
“Put that away…NOW!”
I bit my tongue, and put Bluebell in my bag. Dad bent down and whispered in my ear, “You are the reason your brother is gone.”
I walked up to the coffin, looked at the person who was once my brother, and hiccuped, “I love you, Jordan. I miss you.”
YOU ARE READING
Bubbling Over
Teen Fiction"I'm sorry" Anora Farim has always been good at brushing off hurtful comments. It's normal for her, but when she gets her first boyfriend and loses him, she blames herself over and over again. When she finally meets the girl she will call her best f...
